A taste of the mid-life feels

I know that 60 or 70 years ago, my age (the big 3-6) would be solidly entering mid-life time.  I'm not at all sure where that distinction starts anymore, though I feel pretty sure that my mentality isn't there yet.  For Patricia's sake, I have a whole gaggle of high school and college friends who are still pushing out sweet, roly-poly babies, which is certainly the antithesis of middle-aged in my mind.

But within the last handful of months, I've been faced with some seemingly incontrovertible evidence that the old bod is aging. 

1. I now take a daily vitamin-y / supplement-y pill for the pigmentation in my eyes.  I'm not a hundo percent sure what the deal is with my sub-par pigmentation other than I'm strongly encouraged to boost my numbers and these pills are supposed to help: $200/year for old-lady-eye-pills.
2. I had a normal dental cleaning this week, and my hygienist was updating my chart when she was done and we were waiting on the dentist to come in for his poke around the mouth region.  In basically talking to herself out loud, the hygienist made a comment about a couple of spots where my gums are receding: What. In. The. World.
3. I pulled out a yoga video that I've had for years and use every once in a while when I want to do something physical but also want to stay home.  The Older joined me, and while I can for certain promise you that my form was way better than hers, I can also promise you that I cramped my hamstrings so hard on a cool-down stretch that I can still feel it two days later:  What is going on with my legs?
4. In the spring, I went through a whole day where my arm was inexplicably sore:  I hurt myself while sleeping.
5. My hip pops when I run:  I sound like a percussive instrument every step I take.
6. I forgot my glasses on a recent 3-night trip, which didn't stop me from reading or doing the work I needed to do on my computer, but it did change the way I felt about my eyeballs:  I fully trust my eye doctor that she knows what my eyes need (refer to #1).
7. The only thing that helps my painfully dry hands as soon as the average temperature falls below 70 degrees is medicated lotion: old lady cream.

All of this just basically makes me want to stay at home, read a good book, and drink loads of warm things like tea.  I might want to eat bread, too.  It makes as good of sense as anything just to hunker down and embrace my middle aged-ness. 

Also, my girls have been entirely invested in baseball all season with me, even now when my / our team is no longer playing in the World Series.  I love them so much.

An introvert day

It's been a stretch of time whereupon I've been meaning to write on here again for literally weeks, since about the middle of September when this day happened.  But life and work are what they are.  (And also -- get this -- I have nothing that I have to grade tonight.)

Also, my boys lost last night so my season of soaring joy and crushing disappointment is over.  For that, I am overly sad, I admit.  But t turns out that I have a fellow baseball-crazed fan who works across the hall from me and we have much to say.  I need people like this person.

About a month ago, the days felt a bit bleak.  A bit weary.  A bit dull.  And I did something that I had never ever in the history of me done before: I took an introvert day.  

I fully intended to work at home.  And I did.

I fully intended to read and run.  And I did.

I fully intended to just BE.  And I did.

It was...nice.  For all that this word is bland and I would never encourage anyone to really use it, that's exactly what this day was.  NICE.  

There was beautiful sun.  There was a sunggly beasty beside me all day.  There was plenty to keep me busy but for which I ultimately felt productive rather than over worked.  I felt satisfied at the end of it.  And not just good-I-got-things-done satisfied, but fundamentally satisfied and quiet.  

I really needed that quiet.  The boy is on the downward slope of a busy coaching season on top of his day job and all-other-time-fatherhood job.  My students have been at times a bit cloying.  I always like them individually, but there are some collective personalities that are just a bit blergh for me this semester.  And truth be told, I really loved my last group of kiddos, who have now all flown the nest.  I miss them, though trying they were as well.  This year's class is really more "normal" for me, and after a year of "love," then "normal" is just a bit off.

So a day came when I could carve out an introvert day and recharge my internal batteries a bit.  In the past, I've always guarded my personal days because of inevitable times I need to use them for saving up days to use when on maternity leave, taking care of a sick child, or attending court for some volunteering that I do.  But now...no more maternity leave time needed, the boy and I try to split any necessary days off for a sick one (which last year = 1 day each I think), and I'm on hiatus from the court time.  Suffice it to say that I used a day on me and it was in September and yes, there's a whole bunch of the year still to come.  

I fully trust in mental health days and support my colleagues who use them.  It's hard(er) I think when it comes to your own choice to engage in some rest.  For me, these days that I am allowed to use each year are not by definition "mental health days," and my type-A personality is a go-by-the-book and ask-permission-first type of person.  But I allowed myself some time for deep breaths and, most importantly, silence, which I have learned is a need rather than a want.  

And right now, the washing machine is running, the refrigerator is humming, and it is otherwise SILENT.  In fact, it's quiet enough that I hear a book calling my name from the other side of the house.  

May we all engage in recuperative silence on purpose and with deep, calming breaths.